


tick tock

by EzzyDean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 16:54:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EzzyDean/pseuds/EzzyDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sugawara Koushi is a crafty devil.</p>
<p>Hajime knows this very well.</p>
<p>Most of the time he lets whatever ridiculous thing Suga has brewing go and just let him do whatever he wants.  It’s simpler that way and, at the end of the day, Iwaizumi Hajime is a pretty simple guy.</p>
<p>But sometimes, despite his seemingly stoic nature, he can’t help but play along.  Can’t help but warm his fingers in the fire that is Suga’s playfulness and addictively sly smiles and hope he doesn’t get too burned in the end; not that getting burned is really something he worries about.</p>
<p>So when Suga leans in close at the grocery store as Hajime is reaching for Suga’s favorite crackers, when Suga’s breath heats the back of his neck and his words linger on Hajime’s skin, Hajime decides that today seems like a good day to play along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tick tock

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to yooooou Christine :D (and the rest of the Haikyuu!! fandom) have some Suga & Iwa smut
> 
> (fun fact the doc for this fic was actually titled (tick tock) All Ur Bttms R Tops so.... yeah)

Sugawara Koushi is a crafty devil.

Hajime knows this very well.

Most of the time he lets whatever ridiculous thing Suga has brewing go and just let him do whatever he wants.  It’s simpler that way and, at the end of the day, Iwaizumi Hajime is a pretty simple guy.

But sometimes, despite his seemingly stoic nature, he can’t help but play along.  Can’t help but warm his fingers in the fire that is Suga’s playfulness and addictively sly smiles and hope he doesn’t get too burned in the end; not that getting burned is really something he worries about.  


So when Suga leans in close at the grocery store as Hajime is reaching for Suga’s favorite crackers, when Suga’s breath heats the back of his neck and his words linger on Hajime’s skin, Hajime decides that today seems like a good day to play along.

 

“Guess what,” Suga murmurs, voice syrupy sweet, “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Suga’s grinning like he’s won something when Hajime turns away from the shelf with a small frown on his face, like he hadn’t quite heard Suga’s words.  Then he smiles sweetly.

“Really?”  He drops the crackers into the basket and nudges Suga’s shoulder as he passes him.  “Me either.”

He doesn’t need to look to know what he’d see on Suga’s face right now.  That almost betrayed look with his mouth parted and eyes wide before his lips purse and those brown eyes narrow and glitter dangerously.  He prefers a different look.  The one where Suga’s lips are stretched thin around his cock and his eyes are dark and hazy as he works on wrecking Hajime.  When Suga is intent on wrecking him, working him so hard he can barely move the rest of the night, he is even more dangerous than usual, even more cunning and devious as he twists and turns everything to suit his whims - sometimes Suga can even sew up time itself and unravel it to make the world they’re in when they fall together last nearly forever - and Hajime loves it all and he knows that if he plays his cards right he’ll get exactly what he wants tonight.

Hajime rolls his shoulders, making sure to flex his arms just enough while he does it to draw Suga’s attention and he smiles to himself when he hears Suga’s almost frustrated intake of breath before he even reaches the end of the aisle.  In the back of his mind he wonders what else he can do to get more of those noises from his boyfriend but at the moment he has other things to focus on.  Like remembering to grab more rice before Suga does his best to distract him.  It’s not as easy as it sounds, despite Hajime’s strong will and determination, because Suga is very very good at what he does.

Such as managing to slip his hand into Hajime’s back pocket three times and not-so-subtly squeeze his ass in an attempt to discover if he was telling the truth before they make it up to the checkout counter.  He even manages to get one hand in each back pocket at the same time when he steps up behind Hajime to peer over his shoulder while they’re near the meat section.

“Can’t wait to get you home to find out if you’re telling the truth or not,” Suga states as they wait in line at the checkout.

“That will have to wait a bit.”  Hajime glances over his shoulder and holds back a smile at Suga’s pout.  “We still have more shopping to do,” he explains.

“You’re going to say something like that to me and then insist we finish shopping?”  Suga smiles sweetly at the cashier and collects their change and absolutely does not stare at the way Hajime’s arm looks when he grabs all their bags with one hand.  “And people say I’m evil?”

“Rarely to your face.”  Hajime laughs at Suga’s dramatic gasp.  “Besides,” he adds conversationally, taking Suga’s hand and tugging him out of the store, “we better get all our shopping done now since I don’t plan on being able to leave the apartment again for the next couple days.”

He can feel Suga’s gaze all over him when they stop to pick up some spices at the local shop that Hajime prefers over the grocery store.  It burns like Suga’s touching him and Hajime loves every moment that he has that attention on him.  

The two of them together may not be as experimental and kinky as some of their friends - and god damn Oikawa for oversharing the way he does - but Hajime knows exactly what he enjoys and wants and exactly how to get it.  He squats down to grab something from the bottom shelf of the aisle he’s in and can practically hear Suga gulp from a few feet away and he knows it’s thanks to the way his jeans stretch taut over his thighs and show off his ass.  He may not be the conventionally pretty one in this relationship but he does know how to flaunt what he has and he thinks he does it well.

Considering the way Suga’s hand keeps slipping up under his shirt to press against his lower back when they pause at stoplights and crosswalks, fingertips cool against his warm skin, and how he can’t seem to stop his eyes from wandering up and down Hajime like he’s a choice piece of meat at a barbeque, Hajime thinks he does it very well.

 

Suga’s face turns a pretty shade of pink when Hajime slows to a stop in front of the convenience store with the big pharmacy section in it, no doubt already thinking ahead to what they’ll be doing in the next few hours and wondering if they have the supplies needed for it.

“Bring your mind out of the gutter for a moment,  _ angel _ ,” Hajime teases, “we’re out of toothpaste.”  Suga sulks and follows Hajime inside where they get their toothpaste and continue on their way home.

“You’re not very nice,” Suga states as they wait for the traffic to let up so they can cross the street.

“You’re not with me because I’m nice.”

Suga’s fingers trail up Hajime’s arm and trace the edge of his t-shirt sleeve where it’s tight against the skin.  “No I’m with you because you’re hot.”

“And here I thought you liked my brain.  You’re only into me for my body.”

“It’s a very nice body to be in.  And to be into.”  Suga winks at him and hurries across the street, light changing at the exact right moment for a perfect exit as usual, and Hajime tells himself that the blush on his cheeks is from the exertion of carrying all the groceries, though he knows it’s a lie.

 

“Now you’re just being an ass.”  Suga’s eyeing the building in front of them warily.  “You’re just stalling to get me even more sexually frustrated.”

Hajime laughs.  “I have to pick something up from Matsukawa.  You can stay out here I’ll just be a minute.”

“What are you getting?”  Hajime has never quite figured out what Matsukawa did to Suga to make him so wary and distrusting of him, Suga assures him it was nothing serious - a friendly prank with a sprinkle of magic or something - and that Matsukawa is just “a conniving little shit with a sleepy face that he can’t trust” but neither of them will tell Hajime exactly what the deal is.

“It’s just his share of the money for Oikawa’s birthday gift.”

“And he couldn’t just send it to you because?”  

“Because he likes to make things inconvenient for you and it’s all a plot against you to keep you from your orgasm just a little longer.”  Suga makes a disgusted noise, and a face to go along with it, and Hajime leans over and kisses the pout from Suga’s lips.  “Honestly I don’t know.  He just sent me a message earlier that he had it on him and if I was out today to stop by and pick it up.”

 

Suga had insisted on changing into comfortable clothes as soon as they got home, before they even started putting groceries away, and at first Hajime had been confused.  But now Hajime knows exactly what Suga is doing.  Suga probably knows that he knows yet that isn’t stopping either of them.  Not Suga from stretching up high and showing a sliver of pale skin or bending over to rummage through the bags at his feet and not Hajime from appreciating the view. 

When Suga drops his box of crackers and deliberately bends over slowly to pick it up Hajime is busy putting stuff into the fridge and Suga pouts when he glances over his shoulder and sees it.  Then he tilts his head and appreciates his own view for a moment because Hajime is still wearing his jeans and his ass really does look amazing in them and Suga still can’t tell if Hajime was lying about not wearing underwear or not.  By the time Hajime is done in the fridge Suga is back to filling the cupboards.

Suga stretches to slide the last few boxes of stuff onto the top shelf, hips slotting into the corner of the counter neatly and one hand pressed into the countertop for that last inch of leverage, and Hajime’s eyes wander over the small of his back that’s exposed when the shirt Suga slipped into - an old shrunken shirt of Hajime’s - rides up before his gaze slides down to the way Suga’s shorts are practically glued to his ass and then down his strong legs.  By the time he reaches Suga’s ankles, delicate looking things that he loves pressing kisses to just to make Suga laugh at him, Suga has turned around and has his hip propped against the counter and a knowing look on his face.

“Keep looking at me like that and I’m going to have to charge you for it.”

“You should be charged with indecent exposure for wearing those shorts.”

“Aw am I distracting you, Hajime?”  His name sounds like a challenge when Suga says it like that.  A challenge that he is very interested in pursuing.

He steps forward until he’s pressing into Suga’s space, runs his hands up the curve of Suga’s hips and rubs his thumbs along the skin of his stomach.

“You know that it takes more than you bending over in front of me and showing off your hips under my old shirts to distract me.  I have more control than that, Koushi.”

Suga seats himself on the counter in one easy motion and draws Hajime in, wrapping his legs around Hajime’s waist and running his hands up Hajime’s arms before linking them behind his neck.

“I know,” Suga hums, “your control makes you even hotter.”

“Nice attempt but technically it does exactly the opposite.”

Suga pouts and Hajime feels his heart skip a couple beats.

“Technically you should be taking me to the bedroom right now with your disgustingly impressive muscles and not tearing apart my puns.”

 

He carries Suga to their bedroom with ease, barely even missing a beat in his steps when Suga curls down and nips at his neck, and drops Suga onto the covers.  Suga really is a work of art, especially like this.  Blush staining his cheeks pink and deepening to red as it crawls towards his neck.  Hair a mess of ashen strands curling at the end where it’s growing out because he keeps forgetting to go get it trimmed.  Pale legs opened invitingly.  Stomach barely showing where Hajime’s old shirt bunches up when he props himself onto his elbows and sighs.

“Seriously.  I’m gonna have to start charging you here soon.”

“Bill me for it later.”

Hajime slides onto the bed and hovers over Suga, just watching the way Suga’s eyes widen and darken as he runs his hands up Hajime’s arms, feeling his muscles tense as he shifts his weight, and then down his chest until he can slide them under Hajime’s shirt and drag his nails lightly across the skin.  Hajime shivers and drops his weight down until he’s nestled between Suga’s legs and nosing at his throat, leaving a trail of kisses, barely enough force behind them to pinken the skin, up to his lips.

Buried deep beneath his kind and doting exterior Suga is passion.  Burning and selfish and willing to take everything and leave behind nothing but a hollowed out core of ashes and coals.  Hajime is happy to provide kindling for him, happy to put his skills to use to breathe life into that passion and draw it out inch by inch until it rears it’s head and consumes them both.  As much as he wants and craves and needs Suga still sometimes has to be reminded that it’s okay to take, that Hajime  _ wants _ him to take what he wants.

So Hajime coaxes that passion out.  Drops kisses up and down Suga’s neck, tastes the line of his jaw with a quick swipe of his tongue, presses down into Suga, slides their lips together before catching Suga’s lower one between his teeth.  Hajime supports himself with one hand and then the other, slipping his free one against Suga’s skin in teasing touches and rough drags of his palms up and under that t-shirt.  He lets Suga’s fingers dig into his skin and muscles, lets Suga’s legs clamp around him, lets him be pliant and soft as Hajime stokes the coals of Suga’s passion.

When Hajime draws away Suga chases after him, whining when Hajime stays out of reach of his lips and pouting when Hajime dares to laugh softly at him.  Suga’s hands drift down Hajime’s chest and he hooks his fingers in Hajime’s belt loops, tugging when Hajime shifts to move away.

“Iwaizumi,” his eyes narrow the longer Hajime just stares down at him without moving.  Suga groans in frustration and slides his hands around to grab Hajime’s hips and attempt to tug him down.  A moment later he huffs and his hands slide under the waist of Hajime’s jeans.  Hajime watches as Suga’s eyes go wide and turn mischievous as he feels nothing under his fingers but Hajime’s skin.

“Told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear.”  Hajime smirks down at Suga.

“Yes you did,” Suga murmurs in response, eyes closing as he squeezes Hajime’s ass and pulls him down to grind their hips together.  Suga’s eyes flutter open as his fingers slide out from Hajime’s jeans and settle on his hips.  Hajime is, as always, stunned motionless by the flare of passion suddenly lighting them.

Which apparently works for Suga because he uses that moment to buck his weight up and flip them, pinning Hajime’s wrists near his head with a wicked grin that makes Hajime’s fingers tingle with the urge to fan those flames.

There it is.  That’s what Hajime’s been waiting for.  That heated look in Suga’s eyes.  That possessive way his hands skim over Hajime’s body, like he’s cataloguing Hajime, measuring him and picturing all the ways he can wreck him by the time they’re through.

“By the way.”  Hajime waits until Suga sits back and rests himself on Hajime’s hips, those barely there shorts doing very little to hide Suga’s interest in the situation at hand, to continue.  Mostly so he has a clear view of the way Suga’s face scrunches up in distaste at his words.  “Matsukawa had a belated birthday gift for you.”

“I’m not sure I want anything he has to give me.  I don’t trust him.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then go check in the bag from the convenience store that I tossed into the bathroom when we got home.”

Suga takes a deep breath, debating, and gives Hajime a look that shoots straight through his veins and pools heat in his stomach, like Suga’s the one who plays with fire and not Hajime.

“Take off your shirt first.”

If Hajime didn’t know any better he’d almost think Suga knew what was in the bag.  But he knows he doesn’t and he just complies with a smile, sitting up and pulling his shirt over his head before pulling Suga close for a quick kiss that turns far from innocent when Suga swipes his tongue along Hajime’s lips and tugs his lower lip between his teeth.  Hajime gives in for a few minutes, lets the heat build between them as Suga runs his fingers along Hajime’s bare skin and he returns the favor with his hands roaming under Suga’s borrowed shirt, before he settles his hands on Suga’s hips and squeezes.

“Go get what’s in the bag.  I promise you’ll appreciate it.”  Suga narrows his eyes and gives Hajime a distrustful look.  “If you don’t like it then I promise not to stop you the next time you want to prank Matsukawa.”  Suga still looks like he isn’t sure so Hajime sweetens the deal a little.  “Or Oikawa or, since I love you, Sawamura though I have no idea what he’s ever done to you that you want to prank him so badly.”

If he didn’t know Suga was going to love what was in the bag he’d be worried about the potential havoc he just agreed to to let happen.  But, as it is, the others are safe for now.

He waits patiently while Suga slides off the bed and leaves the room, hips swaying under Hajime’s old t-shirt.  He can hear the rustle of the bag from the bathroom and then silence.

Hajime stares at the way the afternoon light comes through the blinds on the window and paints the dull white of the walls in stripes of gold and grey until he hears movement near the door.  He turns to see Suga there, hip propped against the doorway, with long black strips of cloth in his hand and a flush on his face.

“Happy belated birthday,” Hajime says quietly.  There’s a weight in the air, the kind of feeling you get in museums, like if you talk too loudly some sort of centuries old spell will be broken.  It crackles and creaks and hums, a buzz of timelessness that surrounds them.  He watches as Suga runs the strips through his fingers and twists them with his eyes on them but unfocused.  “Suga?”  He finally has to ask when the quiet in the room starts to feel deafening.

Brown eyes snap up, those embers of passion that call to Hajime glowing in them, and Suga swallows hard.

“Are they for me or you?”

“They’re for you,” Hajime replies, “to use however you want.”

He knows exactly how he’d like them to be used, has since the moment Matsukawa put the idea into his head months ago after a few too many drinks had led to Matsukawa being the oversharing friend for once, and he knows that Suga would enjoy that immensely.  But he also knows that Suga needs to want it to begin with.  Suga needs to be the one to ask for it first because otherwise - Hajime knows a lot about his boyfriend’s quirks but he still doesn’t completely understand him sometimes - he won’t be able to completely enjoy it.

“So, what do you want Koushi?”

The black strips stand out against his pale fingers and they almost seem to glow a little in the stripey afternoon light as Hajime watches Suga’s eyes, bright in a stripe of gold, flicker from the strips to him and back again.

 

What Suga wants meshes quite well with what Hajime had been thinking: Hajime is stretched out on his back, silken blindfold secured over his eyes and a velvet smooth cuff attached to a silky tie down wrapped around each wrist.  But instead of being tied to the bed the other ends are tangled in the fingers of one of Suga’s skillful hands while the other roams Hajime’s bare chest.  The blindfold makes him extra aware of Suga in a way mere darkness can’t.  He’s aware of each touch cool against his hot skin, each shift of Suga’s legs against his, the way the smooth curve of Suga’s ass settles against Hajime’s hips like it was made to fit there, each steady breath Suga takes.

Suga’s voice fills his ears, rushes past the white noise of the outside world and takes over like a wave, submerging him until the only things he can hear are his pulse and that voice.

Hajime isn’t one to wax poetic about things or paint pretty pictures with words but Suga’s voice is something that could lead him to those things.  It can send him to sleep or rouse him from it.  Calm his nerves or send shocks of arousal through them.  Soothe him or burn him.  Dampen his temper or flare his emotions.  It’s music, it really is, and he can listen to it all day without growing tired of it.  The cadence, the timbre, the rise and fall of each syllable that comes from those lips can stop time, stop the beat of Hajime’s heart and send it pounding out of his chest in the same breath.

The words slide over him, blanketing him with a warm layer of arousal, and it takes a few minutes for him to fully register the individual words as more than warm sound.

“You look so wonderful like this, you know?”  Suga’s free hand roams across Hajime’s chest, thumb rubbing his nipple before sliding down to trace a heavy line down to his navel.  “All these muscles so pliant.”  His palm slides back up and presses hard against Hajime’s chest, right over his heart.  “All that fire and strength right here in the palm of my hand.”  Suga leans down slowly, tugging the strips wrapped around Hajime’s wrists to keep his arms taut and muscles strained slightly, and Hajime can feel each agonizing inch of warm skin pressing down against him.  The only thing Suga’s wearing are those damn short shorts and Hajime tries to roll his hips up, impatient to feel proper skin on skin contact down there.  “Now, now, Hajime,” Suga’s teeth sink against his collarbone and Hajime groans softly, breath hitching when Suga pulls back to soothe over the mark with a gentle kiss.  “We have all the time in the world.  Just trust me.”

“I do,” Hajime replies without thought, without hesitation, and he feels Suga’s cheek burning against his chest.  “Completely.”

Suga leaves a kiss against the edge of the blindfold, soft lips only distinguishable from the silken material because of their warmth then he pulls away, weight gone from Hajime’s hips, and the bed, and Haime waits.  He can hear his own breathing and heartbeat rushing in his ears and he strains for anything else, seconds dragging into minutes in the darkness behind his blindfold.  he tenses as he tries to hear what Suga is doing, arms still stretched above his head and he can feel the strips tickling against his arms when Suga comes back and the line goes slack.  He relaxes when Suga’s weight settles on the edge of the bed.

The commanding tugs on the strips turn him onto his side and he waits patiently while Suga adjusts him how he wants and settles a pillow under his head.

“Let me know if your arms get too uncomfortable or you need to stop.”  Suga’s voice fills his ears once again and Hajime says he will, his own words barely making it past his lips before he sucks in a harsh breath; Suga runs his tongue from the top of Hajime’s ass to the dip in his lower back and down again, teeth scraping over the flesh as he slides himself lower on the bed.  Hajime bends his knee and settles his foot flat on the bed without being asked and he can feel Suga’s smile against his skin.  “Already so needy,” Suga teases.

“Can’t help if I know what I want.”

“Oh, and what’s that?”  Hajime’s legs tense as Suga’s breath warms the skin just above his ass and then he relaxes them with a deep breath.

“The same thing as you hopefully: you wrecking me and keeping me in bed for the next couple days.”

Suga’s fingers tense against his hip and the strips around his wrists pull a little - uncomfortable but not painful - as Suga’s other hand tenses as well.  Hajime waits.  He can be patient, when the reward is something he really wants.  And he’s really in the mood for Suga to wreck him.  To take him apart and break him with his hands and his lips and his voice and his cock, over and over again until Hajime doesn’t know up from down from sideways.  Suga doesn’t say a word but the sudden press of his tongue against Hajime’s entrance and the slide of his free hand along Hajime’s stomach is answer enough.

He’s always lost track of time when he and Suga fall into bed like this but with the blindfold he’s lost his favorite way to tell the passing of time: seeing the way Suga moves throughout the night.  He loves counting the minutes by the darkening of Suga’s eyes, the curling of his hair as he sweats, the way the flush fills his cheeks and bleeds down his throat.  But now, with those markers gone, it feels like he’s relearning the meaning of time itself.  He marks his minutes by the impatient tremble of Suga’s fingers as they work him open, the heavy breaths against his hip, the slow tightening of his shoulders when he clenches the silk strips between his fingers.

Hajime swears he can feel every wrinkle in the now warm sheet as he gasps and curls forward just as well as he can feel the smile on Suga’s face when he presses a wet kiss to Hajime’s thigh.

 

Suga gives him a moment to catch his breath or maybe it’s a few minutes, it’s hard to tell when he can only hear the fond smile in his voice as tells Hajime how much he enjoys seeing him like this, when he can only feel the slickness of Suga’s palm as he runs a soothing hand along Hajime’s hip, when he can only smell the thickness of sweat and sex on the air, when he can only taste the stale dryness of heavy breaths and a pounding pulse on his tongue.  He can’t see the light playing across Suga’s skin or the way he bites his lower lip raw.

So he floats on the cloud of timelessness that Suga has wrapped him in.

Suga uses the silken strips, starting to grow damp and warm when they brush Hajime’s arms, to guide him up onto his knees, shaky and unstable thanks to the edge of his orgasm slipping away and the shifting mattress as Suga slides close.  The strips go slack and Hajime settles his hands on Suga’s hips.  His skin feels even smoother under Hajime’s hands than usual, slides slick and cool against the rough drag of Hajime’s warm palms when Suga presses forward and leans heavily against his chest.

Hajime buries his face in the curve of Suga’s neck, lets minutes tick by uncounted as he nips and tastes and kisses his way from jaw to shoulder and back again, pacing himself by Suga’s gasps and the dig of blunt nails into his skin.  All he can smell here is Suga; body wash mostly gone this late in the day.  It’s a scent that manages to calm his nerves and tighten the coil of arousal in his stomach at the same time so that when Suga finally pushes him away and onto his back his own hands are practically trembling even as his breath is steady.

He can’t measure time by the passing of minutes on the digital clock on the nightstand, not that he ever really does when they’re in the middle of sex, but it seems things are never more noticeable until they’re absent.  The normal passage of time - seconds, minutes, hours - is all but gone as far as Hajime is concerned and it leaves an unusual tickle in his brain, that hidden buzz of pressure that things are going far too quickly and he’s losing time itself.  So he does the only thing he can do to reclaim that time: lets it burn under his skin as he gives himself to Suga.  His seconds are measured by the beat of his pulse under the velvet cuffs around his wrists.  His minutes counted by each slow press of Suga sinking into him and each equally tantalizing drag out.  His hours collect in each drop of sweat that drips onto him from Suga above him.

Suga builds castles on the beach with the sands of time and drags Hajime along for the game.

The pressure around him, inside him, builds and Suga’s voice washes over him, waves cresting on that sandy beach.  He listens as Suga describes how much he loves it when Hajime is like this, when he lets Suga pin him down.  How he loves to feel Hajime’s muscles under his fingertips, loose and pliant and trusting, even when he’s blindfolded like this.  How hot and soft he is around Suga even as his toes curl against the sheets and his knees squeeze against Suga’s sides as Suga drags him closer and closer to orgasm.  Suga stretches over him and Hajime feels cool fingers caress his burning cheek as he teeters on the edge.

The blindfold comes off with a sharp tug and time stops.  Hajime loses all his other senses as his sight returns.  Suga’s face is the only thing he can see - the damp curl of his bangs, the flush of his cheeks, his reddened lips, and his wide brown eyes - as he comes.  Shudders wrack his body and his eyes sink close as Suga tenses over him.

 

 

Time comes back in increments, along with his other senses.

 

He feels the loss of Suga’s body as he pulls out and the cool kiss of the air as he slips away.

A few seconds later Suga’s fingers loosen the cuffs and soft lips press against the skin of his wrists.

He no longer hears the rushing thumping of his heart pounding in his ears.

A minute goes by and Suga is back on the bed, with a damp cloth and gentle kisses.

The staleness from his mouth hanging open for ragged breaths wanes as he licks dry lips.

Five minutes and Suga has him clean, leaving only to toss the cloth back into the bathroom.

His pillow smells like sweat and the smell of sex lingers in the air.

Ten minutes and he’s curled against Suga, soft and boneless, with his head under Suga’s chin.

He watches the darkness creep into the room and paint shadows across Suga’s chest.

After a half hour Suga runs a hand down his spine and squeezes his hip with a sly grin on his lips.  One that Hajime returns before pushing himself up and settling his knees on either side of Suga’s hips.  Hajime knows what he wants and how to get it.  He knows exactly how to fan the embers and pull that passion back to the surface, content to burn himself on the flames that flare up in the process which is, incidentally, exactly what he wants in the end.  He can stand the heat after all.

 

Sugawara Koushi is a crafty devil; he manipulates time, unravels its threads and sews patches into it.  He builds sand castles with its grains and his laughter travels along its winds.

Hajime knows this very well; he’s wrapped in time, tangled in loose threads and mismatched patches.  He watches castles fall to waves and wind and burns up the very sands of time itself into glassy figures of passion.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Did you notice anything about them? Like how Suga can play with time and Iwaizumi is totally a fire mage? :D
> 
> As always, you can come yell at me at [Tumblr](http://ezzydean.tumblr.com) if you need to.


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